


Flowers in the Desert

by LadyDisdayne



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: AgriCorps (Star Wars), AgriCorps Member Obi-Wan Kenobi, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Caring Qui-Gon Jinn, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Mutual Pining, Obi-Wan Kenobi is Not a Jedi, Obi-Wan spends all of his free time with his beans and freeing slaves, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Scientist Obi-Wan Kenobi, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Worldbuilding, farming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28397826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDisdayne/pseuds/LadyDisdayne
Summary: When Obi-Wan watched Qui-Gon walk away after fighting side by side on Bandomeer, he threw himself into his work with the AgriCorps, trusting the Force to be his guide.But the Force always works in mysterious ways, and now the same man that left him behind needs rescuing of his own and is the only one that can help Obi-Wan save a group of kidnapped younglings on newly liberated Tatooine.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 53
Kudos: 181
Collections: Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan Discord Server Secret Santa (2020)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MidnightDelirium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightDelirium/gifts).



> Thank you to the wonderful Mid for such an amazing prompt! I have had so much fun creating this world and fic for you! 
> 
> Prompt: Obi never became a Jedi. Qui still refused him after Bandomeer. He ended up on Tatooine, and Qui found both him and Ani. Up to you if Ani and Obi had met or not. Then Obi saved him from Maul, so Qui took both Ani and Obi back to Coruscant with him. Now, Qui has to choose between Obi or Ani. The choice is up to you. But please give me a happy ending even if Qui choose Ani.
> 
> Thank you Chibi the beta read, and Cat, and Pom for the push I needed!

Obi-Wan could do no more than watch the man he had been so certain was to be his Master board his ship, dooming Obi-Wan to the harsh dry earth of Bandomeer. 

Obi-Wan had been so certain that after all they had faced together, how well they had fought side by side, how perfectly they had seemed to fit together within the Force, that Qui-Gon would accept Obi-Wan as his Padawan. He had been absolutely sure that they were destined to be partners and that the Force wanted him to become a Jedi. A _proper_ Jedi.

But, not for the first time in his life, Obi-Wan had been wrong. Qui-Gon had rejected him once again and was determined to track Xanatos alone. To be alone. 

Before the boarding ramp had closed, Obi-Wan turned his back on the departing ship to make his way back to the Bandomeer AgriCorps’ camp, his training saber still swinging at his hip. He placed his hand on its pommel, steading it as the small, weak piece of kyber within hummed in with the Force, warm and bright and steady. As he walked, Obi-Wan’s own connection to the Force grew, letting peace and resolution settle deep within Obi-Wan’s heart. 

All was as the Force wills, and Obi-Wan was but clay in its hands.

* * *

Twelve Years Later

* * *

“Obi-Wan, where would you like this shipment?”

“Which one is it? The Agamarian soybeans or that new wheat strain from Lothal?” Obi-Wan asked, not bothering to look up from his microscope. 

He had been on Tatooine for almost six months, leading an AgriCorps team to hopefully breathe new life into the dry earth and give the people a chance to thrive. But the planet seemed bound and determined to resist growing even the hardiest crops, including the ones Obi-Wan had personally genetically designed for desert climates. They had even gone so far as to bring in new moisture harvesters to encourage the seedlings to grow, protected in large greenhouses that stretched for miles in the sand. 

The ongoing skirmishes with the Hutt clan weren’t helping anything either. There was only so much Obi-Wan could do to convince plants to grow, even with the Force, and even modified crops weren’t resistant to deliberate sabotage. 

What Obi-Wan was really hoping would make a difference was the new breed of Agamarian soybeans he had cultivated and sent to Coruscant for analysis and second opinions. The soybeans were unique, actually giving nutrients to the earth, turning useless sand into rich soil that could be cultivated and used for decades to come. 

“Ermmm…” The young Twi’lek girl, Gida, hummed uncertainty, rotating the box in her hands. “Neither?”

“Do you recognize any of the letters on the label? Like the ones teacher Aiva taught last week?” Obi-Wan looked up to see her blush and shake her head no. Many of the newly freed slaves helping with the planting were lacking even basic education and, while Obi-Wan and the rest of the AgriCorps had done much to bring a education system to Tatooine, the years under the Hutts had done their damage. 

“Nooooo?” She said, still frowning at it. 

Obi-Wan sighed and held out his hand for the package. It was far heavier than he imagined for its size and had none of the life his packages normally shimmered with in the Force. 

“Well now, this does seem to be a problem.” He said, examining the label. “It looks like the delivery person made a mistake. Again. Do you see this here?” Obi-Wan pointed to a string of letters on the packing label. Gida nodded. “This says this should have been delivered to Akim’s in Mos Espa. How it made its way all the way out here will be one of the Galaxy’s great mysteries, hum?”

Gida wrinkled her nose at the mention of Akim’s, well known for its nasty food and even nastier clientele. She reached out to take the box, no doubt planning on taking it to its proper owner herself. 

Obi-Wan waved her away. “That's quite alright, little one. I will take it to our friend Akim. They probably have my seedlings.” The _who knows what they will ask for in return_ went unsaid.

“Thanks Obi-Wan!” Gida’s shoulders relaxed with relief.

“Thank you for bringing it to me, especially when it weighs almost as much as a bantha!” That thought made Obi-Wan pause, and he looked to her delivery cart. “Where is Colo? Doesn’t he normally help you with your deliveries?”

She shrugged. “A few kids didn’t show up for their shifts today.”

Obi-Wan paused. Something felt _wrong,_ twisting in the Force at her words. 

“Why don’t you finish the rest of your deliveries. I am sure Aiva is anxious for you to get back to your studies.” Obi-Wan 

Gida waved goodbye, and Obi-Wan turned back to his work. The box could wait until he had finished his current train of thought, even if he was anxious to get his new seedlings from the labs at the Temple. 

Except that less than an hour later, something about the box started nagging at Obi-Wan, wanting his full attention. He tried to ignore the itching feeling and bury himself deeper in the wheat grains he was currently trying to encourage to grow, but the Sith damned thing was insistent. 

Obi-Wan shook his head and looked at the box and then back to his desk. The chrono showed just past midday, meaning that the cantina would be full, and Sebulba and his cronies a drink or five into their daily afternoon plans. Not the most ideal time to make the journey.

With a groan Obi-Wan picked up the package and donned his cloak and settled his saber on his belt. The twisting feeling quickly turned to peace as he made his way to the bantha pens, a sure sign that the Force was the cause. Obi-Wan could only hope that whatever this was wouldn’t pull him away for too long, they still needed to start getting this new batch of corn in the ground that afternoon. 

“Hello there, old girl.” Obi-Wan greeted Nara, a gentle, albeit stubborn, bantha that he had grown quite fond of during his time on the desert planet. He scratched her forehead and secured her saddle, making sure there was enough water to get them both to the city.

They passed newly planted fields and glowing shield generators. Obi-Wan couldn’t help the small smile that crept across his face. He was proud of his work, of how much he and his crewmates had been able to accomplish, even with the setbacks and hurdles. 

After Bandomeer, it had become obvious to Obi-Wan that much of the galaxy was in need, that many lived without food, without shelter, without freedom. In the AgriCorps, Obi-Wan had been given an opportunity by the Force to change that, at least in part. The small shoots of green were evidence that he had served the Force, and the galaxy’s people, despite his shortcomings that had led to his reassignment. 

The ride to Mos Espa wasn’t long, but the sun was harsh and even a seasoned and sturdy bantha such as Nara needed to conserve energy this time of day. It was well into the afternoon when the city seemed to suddenly appear from the dunes. 

Leaving Nara at the local stable, Obi-Wan made his way through the busy streets, fading into the sounds and smells of the dust covered city. 

Obi-Wan made his way up to the open air bar, finding Akim behind the counter. He held up the box, and from the look on Akim’s face it was just as illegal as Obi-Wan suspected. Akim held out his hands to try and take it, but Obi-Wan was faster, tucking it away in his cloak. 

“I suspect that you were accidentally given mine as well? Why don’t you grab it and I will hold onto this for you.” Obi-Wan smiled. 

“There is nothing for you here, Kenobi. Give me my package and go back to your piles of dirt.” Akim sneered. 

Obi-Wan smiled wider, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. “Is that so? Hum, I wonder where my package of seedlings went then. Why don’t we just go ahead and open this up then, just in case they mixed up our labels and this really is mine. I am sure _whatever_ is inside is valuable enough to cover the cost of my missing plants.” Obi-Wan poured what Force suggestion he could into the statement, letting concern and fear bleed into the words. 

“Seedlings you say?” Akim asked, rubbing his jaw, eyes wide with nerves. Obi-Wan smiled, he had been right about just how legal the package contents were. “You know there might have been a box left outback earlier that would be about that size.”

“Why don’t you go check and I’ll hold onto this one for you.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Akim fled to his back room and Obi-Wan turned to survey the patio. 

Akim’s was over crowded, as Obi-Wan expected. He drew his hood tighter, hoping to avoid some of the more unsavory usuals, those who had been hurt by the closing of Tatooine’s save trade and sought to take out their anger on anyone they thought could be responsible for their loss. 

They didn’t need to know that, in Obi-Wan’s case, their assumption of his part in the Hutts’ recent business failures and misfortunes would be correct. They also didn’t need to know he was planning on finishing what he had started and finally put a stop to the Hutts for good. 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes against suns, thinking about the younglings that hadn’t come for their shifts. It was possible they had missed the shuttles out to the AgriCorps base, or even that they had decided to simply just not come to work for the day. But something about it rang wrong in the Force, like he was missing something . 

Shouting erupted across the patio, and chairs scraped across the duracrete. Obi-Wan turned his back to the confrontation, hoping that it wouldn’t be necessary for him to get involved.

“Our apologies, sir. We will just be on our way.” A rumbling voice broke through the confusion, deep and powerful in the Force. One that Obi-Wan would recognize until his dying day. 

Obi-Wan’s head shot up, sure that he couldn’t possibly be correct. 

Sulbulba began to respond, obviously furious about his afternoon being interrupted, and the crowd shifted back out of his way.

Qui-Gon Jinn stood tall and proud, his hands tucked into his robes as he listened to Sulbulba’s complaints. Even twelve years later, his presence both in and out of the Force still took Obi-Wan’s breath away. 

Behind him stood a Gungan, holding what looked to be some kind of meat animal and a young woman whose noble bearing far exceeded her coarse spun clothes. Some kind of undercover dignitary then, Obi-Wan thought. Which meant that he could sneak away unnoticed and leave Master Jinn to his own mission and arguments. 

A heavy _thud_ behind him drew Obi-Wan’s attention away. Akim cleared his throat, hand out for his own box. 

“Thank you, good sir.” Obi-Wan slid the package over while lifting his own by the shoulder strap, creeping around the crowd to make his way back to the stable. 

Arguing and anger erupted once again, Sulbulba and his friends furious as they moved toward the Jedi and his companions. 

Before Obi-Wan could think, he was standing between Qui-Gon and Sulbulba’s men, hand raised in defense. Jinn raised an eyebrow and his companions stepped back. 

“Get out of the way, you moof-milker! This has nothing to do with you.” Sulbulba growled. 

“Now, Sulbulba, there’s no need to draw attention to ourselves is there? It sounds like everything was a simple accident, no harm no foul. We will just be on our way and you can go back to your drinks and quiet afternoon.” Obi-Wan said, hoping that the mod would find the lure of drinks more inviting then the fight.

“You off-worlders are all the same! You come here, ruining hard working people’s lives and getting involved in their business.” Another man, who Obi-Wan recognized as yet another former slaver, moved forward, a hand on his blaster.

 _So much for not creating a scene,_ Obi-Wan thought as he sighed and shifted his pack to place a hand on his saber. 

“Look, we don’t want any trouble. None of us want to get the marshal and his goons involved in such a trivial matter.” Obi-Wan waved towards where two deputies had stopped to keep an eye on the unfolding events. He himself would rather avoid the newly instated legal system that the locals had put into place when the slaves rebelled, and the attention it would bring with it. The marshal and his deputies were good people but had enough difficulty bringing even a bit of order to the lawless planet, they didn’t need Jedi business complicating matters. 

There was more murmuring from the crowd and a few moved forward as if ready to attack but Sulbulba waved them back before lurching toward Qui-Gon himself. 

“You are lucky this time, off-world scum. Next time, you might not be so fortunate, hum?” 

Obi-Wan didn’t waste time making sure the mob moved away or Sulbulba was actually done with his threats, instead herding the Jedi and his friends down a side street. Once he deemed them a safe enough distance away from both the deputies and Akim’s, he stopped and pulled back his hood to take a good look at Jinn and his companions. 

“Now, may I ask where you were headed so I can point you in the right direction.” Obi-Wan asked, caught between hoping Jinn recognized him, at least through the Force and hoping the years were enough to leave him a distant memory. Both paths left his heart aching. 

The young woman spoke first, a bit huffily. “We are looking for a starship parts dealer.”

Obi-Wan rubbed his chin. “I can recommend a few, but it depends on the ship and the part.”

Jinn sighed, obviously reluctant to give up more information than necessary. “We are looking for a hyperdrive for a Nabooian Royal Starship.”

Obi-Wan winced, looking at the young woman once more. Nabooian royalty made sense with her proud stance and pinched glare.

“For that, I would recommend Watto’s. He’s a bit of a swindler, but he should have what you need.” Obi-Wan pointed them down the road, giving them directions to Watto’s junkyard and what areas of the city to avoid. 

Directions given, Obi-Wan reached for his pack, anxious to get back to his crops, to once again walk away from Qui-Gon Jinn. Being so close to the man that had altered his life so drastically, that had molded him into the person he was without even knowing, without ever being recognized, made Obi-Wan feel like a twelve year old reject all over again. 

“Wait.” Qui-Gon stopped Obi-Wan with a gentle hand on his arm. “Have we met before? You seem familiar.” Qui-Gon asked, examining Obi-Wan’s face now that they were closer. 

Obi-Wan internally sagged further, trying to not let his disappointment show. The part of him that had held onto hope that he had made at least a bit of an impression on Qui-Gon during their time on Bandomeer, that maybe Qui-Gon would recognize him in some way, was heartbroken. They had been so in sync within the Force, fighting side by side so instinctive that it seemed impossible that Qui-Gon wouldn’t remember him. How foolish he had been at twelve, thinking that he had been destined to be Jinn’s Padawan, instead of simply a pawn for the Force to mold and shape. 

“If we have, it must not have been a particularly significant meeting.” Obi-Wan smiled.

Qui-Gon smiled in return. “I must be mistaken then. You would not be so easily forgotten.”

“You may be surprised, Master. Now, if you’ll excuse me I need to make it back to my crops before it gets dark.”

Qui-Gon’s hold tightened before releasing Obi-Wan’s arm. “At least tell me your name. So I can thank you properly.” 

Obi-Wan sighed, knowing a true lie would be easily recognized in the Force. So he went with the next best thing. 

“My name is Ben.” Obi-Wan had been difficult for many of the younglings he had met in his travels, and the nickname had stuck after his two cycles on Jakku. It had first been given to him by a child with a lopsided grin, with sad eyes and a heavy lisp given to her by her so-called father. From what he had heard, she was doing well in her studies and was growing into a feisty young lady, ready to take on a galaxy.

“Thank you, Ben.” Qui-Gon reached out a hand, and Obi-Wan allowed his own to be taken. Qui-Gon’s skin was rough, scared by countless battles. Obi-Wan wondered what his own sun and desert dried palms felt like to the Master. 

“May the Force be with you, Master Jinn.” Obi-Wan withdrew his hand and made his way down the street. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments and support!

Despite his quick pace, Obi-Wan hadn’t even made it back to the stables for Nara when he heard his name being called across the crowd. He pulled his cloak a bit tighter, moved a bit faster, hoping to avoid further trouble and delay. 

“Obi-Wan!” The woman called again. Obi-Wan looked up this time, hearing the worry and desperation in the voice. Shmi Skywalker, one of the many newly freed slaves of Tatooine, was pushing her way through the busy street, her cheeks stained with tears. Her son, Anakin, was one of the few younglings that had not showed up for their day’s lessons and work. Obi-Wan stiffened, fear for the younglings starting to creep into his heart. 

“Shmi? Are you alright?” Obi-Wan asked once she reached his side. “Where's Anakin?”

“Not here.” Shmi whispered, looking around the street.

Obi-Wan followed her to a small tea cart down one of the many winding side streets, where they found a secluded table. Obi-Wan poured their tea and waited for Shmi’s breath to calm. It wouldn’t help anything to cause her more strain and stress. 

“Anakin…” She started, looking around once more. 

“It’s alright.” Obi-Wan slid her a cup of the prepared tea. “Take your time. Anakin what?”

“Anakin never came home last night. He and some friends went to the podracer garage to fiddle around with that pod of his. I thought...I thought he had just spent the night at Kitster’s. He does that sometimes, as kids do. And then I got a comm from his teacher and…”

She took another shuddering breath. Obi-Wan knew the podracing garage and stadium's reputation as a haven for Hutt sympathizers. The Hutts may no longer rule Tatooine, but his influence was still suffocating. 

“Have you talked to Kitster’s mother? What about any of the other parents?”

Shmi nodded, tears threatening once more. “I did. Only one of the kids made it home this morning and he...he saw the Hutts men take Anakin, Obi-Wan. He escaped by hiding in a pod before he could be taken with the rest. I know...I know you have already done so much for us, but I don’t know who else to turn to.” 

Obi-Wan’s heart fell with Shmi’s. Rescuing the younglings from the palace would be no simple task, the Palace was well guarded and there would be no support from the Jedi or AgriCorps except for the one spy already deeply hidden among the Hutts. Obi-Wan had disobeyed direct orders when he had helped slaves on Tatooine (and Jakku...and Bandomeer...) and this would only serve to draw further attention to himself and the Corps’ work. 

But even if he was only able to save one child, one slave from the hands of the Hutts, any punishment and reprimand from the Corps and various councils would be well worth it. 

“Shmi, I’ll do what I can, but it’s going to take some time, a ten day at the least, if I am honest. The Hutts already suspect me, and have tried to target the Corps and the new crops more than once. I need to be careful, make sure that the progress we have made isn’t undone in my haste. At least we know they won’t try to move them for a good while. It would be too risky this soon.”

“I know, Obi-Wan, but if anyone can save Anakin and those kids, it is you.” She looked up from her tea into Obi-Wan’s face, her gaze heavy and unwavering. “I… I was there, you know, that night you set us free.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest. It hadn’t been him, it had been every slave of Tatooine working together, rebelling as one, showing their former masters they were no longer afraid. If he had simply happened to be in the right place at the right time to short circuit the planet’s slave chips and make the right threats to the Hutts from the shadows, then that was the will of the Force and he only acted as it directed. 

Shmi waved her hand, stopping him. “I know how strong you are, Obi-Wan Kenobi, no matter how much you hide behind your plants and microscopes. I can only wish that you could see it as well.” Shmi drained her cup and stood, looking over his shoulder in curiosity. 

“If I find out anything more, I’ll comm you.” Shmi slipped into the crowd, gone before Obi-Wan could ask anything more. He turned, following her gaze. 

He hadn’t even noticed how close to Watto’s Shmi had taken him before it was too late to avoid Qui-Gon’s stare from the shop’s doorway. Qui-Gon smiled and strode forward, careful not to appear rushed, even if Obi-Wan could tell he was anxious. Watto must not have been in a bargaining mood. His companions trailed after him as Qui-Gon made his way across the street to Obi-Wan’s small table. 

“Ben.” Qui-Gon waved with a small smile. “It would seem that the Force is with me today.”

“Master Jinn. Did Watto have your starship part?” Obi-Wan asked, feeling like he already knew the answer. 

Qui-Gon’s face fell. “He did not. Or, at least if he did, he was not willing to sell it to a ‘piece of Jedi scum’ such as myself.”

Obi-Wan winced. He had hoped Watto would be more hungry for credits than angry over Shmi and Anakin’s freedom and what he saw as the Jedi’s part in that. Apparently he had been wrong. Obi-Wan leaned back in his chair, pondering what direction the Force was leading him. The only other mechanic on Tatooine that could have such a rare part would be employed by the Hutts.

Obi-Wan groaned at the sudden clarity in the Force, his heart sinking in his chest. He waived Qui-Gon into the empty chair. 

“I might have a way to get you one, but it will take a ten-day to get. And you will need to help me with a problem of my own.”

“A ten-day!” The young woman scoffed. “Master Jinn we do not have—” Qui-Gon quieted her with a wave of his hand. 

“Padme, why don’t you and JarJar go find us something to eat.” He handed her a few credits before turning back to Obi-Wan. “Tell me what you have in mind.” 

Obi-Wan nodded and called the server droid over for another round of tea as he laid out his plan, keeping the details minimal and vague in case Qui-Gon refused, or the off chance that one of the slavers or Hutt loyalists were listening. If he used this opportunity wisely, he may just be able to drive the Hutts from Tatooine for good. 

Qui-Gon sipped his tea and nodded along, asking questions if he felt them necessary. As they talked, much of the unease and worry that had been building in Obi-Wan’s heart began to slip into the Force. Part of him wondered how working with Jinn as his Padawan would have felt, or how different this conversation would have been had Qui-Gon recognized him. 

“And you are sure that the Hutts would have the part I need?” Qui-Gon asked. 

“Even if they didn’t, I am sure we could find enough credits in their treasury for Watto to ignore the fact you are a Jedi.” Obi-Wan replied. 

“You would have me steal?” Qui-Gon’s nose crinkled, obviously disgusted by the thought. 

“If it helps you sleep at night, think of it as keeping it out of the hands of criminals or villains. It came to the Hutts stolen, probably ten times over.” Obi-Wan finished his tea. The sky was starting to turn golden at the edges, telling him he had lost yet another planting day. He needed to get back to the lab and make sure the sprouts in his pack had survived their trip. 

“And you really think it will take that long before we can put your plan into motion?”

“If we move too quickly, it will never work. We need the Hutts and their goons to get comfortable, let them start to think they have won. Plus, I need to contact my source inside, make sure the younglings are being held where I think they are. You are welcome to try Watto again, everyday between now and then if you would like. I am sure he would enjoy the daily visits of a Jedi.” Obi-Wan rose from the table and gathered his things. The Nabooian and Gungan turned the street corner to join them. 

“Look, I need to get back to camp. If you would like my help, I am stationed at the AgriCorps facility about five miles east outside of town, out in the flatlands.” Obi-Wan only took three steps away before, against his better judgement, he turned back to Qui-Gon and his companions. “There is enough space for you to stay there. If you can, you should probably have your ship move to our spacedock as well. Mos Espa isn’t the safest place for princesses or Jedi, even esteemed Jedi Masters such as yourself.” 

Qui-Gon stood as well, looking at Obi-Wan like he was some sort of mystery that needed to be solved.

“AgriCorps? Ben, are you— ” Qui-Gon started before shaking his head, his shoulders drooping slightly as if he had thought better of his question. “I’ll do it. We will just need some time to move the ship.”

Obi-Wan simply waved in farewell, unsure of what had possessed him to offer so much. For as much as they were all a part of the same Order, it was rare for a Jedi to work with the service corps. Not unheard of, but rare enough Obi-Wan had only worked with one in his twelve years in the Corps, and Quinlan Vos was a breed of Jedi unto himself. 

Nara seemed pleased to see Obi-Wan, her soft huff tickling his hair as he checked her tack and then led her out of the pen. 

The return trip was far quicker then their trip into town, Nara able to move quicker in the cool evening air. The shadows were growing long in the evening hours and Obi-Wan set a quick pace, hoping to avoid any enterprising sand people or Jawas. They tended to avoid the Corps and fields as a rule, but with the Hutts’ recent endeavors, he couldn’t be sure someone wouldn’t try to follow suit. 

After the slaves had been freed, Obi-Wan had worked alongside Haali Creena, an Ithorian member of the Corps whose gentle nature helped foster goodwill and understanding between the various citizens of Tatooine. The crops they were working to grow and the terraforming efforts that would eventually build an effective and mostly self-sustained water cycle were to benefit any and all that lived on the planet. The technology had been most recently successful on Jakku, turning parts of the once desolate planet into large oases that dotted the desert. It was by no means perfect, but it allowed real food to be grown by anyone, building economies that didn’t need to rely on the spice or slave trades to keep their planets running. 

After stabling and feeding Nara, Obi-Wan made his way to the spacedock, which was in truth little more than a strip of empty land and a few droids, along with a couple of rotating light mechanics and staff that mostly specialized in the farm equipment. Obi-Wan arrived just in time to see the sleek silver ship descend, Qui-Gon’s Force presence a bright spot on board. 

“Friends of yours?” The night’s traffic controller, Rik, asked, shaking his head when the ship wobbled a bit on its landing gear. 

“Of a sort. A Jedi Master and a few Nabooians. Would you comm the quartermaster and let her know we will have a few guests that will need rooms and dinner?”

“Sure thing, but Sanya is on kitchen duty this cycle. She’s not going to be happy about a Jedi dinner guest, after what happened last time one stuck around.” 

Obi-Wan winced. Many Jedi thought of ex-Padawan candidates that worked in the service corps as failures. In some cases, such as Obi-Wan’s own, they were not entirely wrong. In others, such as Sanya, who had volunteered for the Corps, seeking a way to make a difference, they couldn’t have made a bigger mistake in judgement. 

During a mission, a smart-mouthed Padawan had referred to Sanya as a washout, a failure. She had promptly given him a black eye and a thorough lesson in the Corps. He had spent the remainder of the mission trying to make it up to her, and had even eventually apologized for his remarks, but the experience had left a sour taste in her mouth for years. 

Obi-Wan couldn’t blame her. The service corps were supposed to be a branch of the Jedi Order, and did just as much, if not more, good for the galaxy’s peoples as the Jedi proper, but were often treated as less important than their saber wielding counterparts. It was something Obi-Wan had come to terms with on Bandomeer when he made the choice to turn his life over to the Force. It was a waste of his time and energy to dwell on what others thought of him. 

The ship's ramp lowered with a groan of metal on metal and Qui-Gon’s small group made their way across the tarmac. They were followed by a lavishly dressed young woman and several practically identical women that Obi-Wan could only assume were some sort of ladies in waiting to the Nabooian royal and a few Nabooian soldiers. It was a larger group than Obi-Wan had expected, but not unmanageable. 

“Thank you again, Ben, for your hospitality.” Qui-Gon smiled in greeting. 

Obi-Wan didn’t miss the look of confusion in Rik’s face at the nickname, but could only shake his head with a smile of his own. He would cross that bridge if he came to it, but he knew enough of Qui-Gon to know he would spend most of his time alone, probably in meditation and Obi-Wan could simply stay as Ben indefinitely. 

“Of course, Master Jinn. We should have plenty of space for you, though some may need to double up and I am afraid that our accommodations are not designed with royalty in mind.” 

“Queen Amidala is grateful for your generosity.” Padme said from the group of women. “Any accommodation is a kindness.”

Obi-Wan looked between Padme and the Queen, noticing the way Padme held herself, slightly apart from the group, if not physically, emotionally. It was different enough to make him wonder who she was really. 

After further introductions were made, Obi-Wan led them into the main structure of the camp, a massive temporary building that housed hundreds of members of the Corps and staff, as well as the canteen and other public areas. Obi-Wan’s quarters were in a separate building that housed the lab and the main research facility that were set closer to the fields, helping avoid distractions and giving him easy access to the crops.

The quartermaster directed the crew to their various rooms and accommodations, giving the queen and her entourage the largest they had available. Obi-Wan internally grimaced when she handed Qui-Gon a keycard to the only room that neighbored his own. It would seem the Force was determined to have them stay close. 

Everyone soon dispersed for their own quarters to change and rest before late meal, leaving Obi-Wan to guide Qui-Gon to the lab and their rooms. Qui-Gon spent the short walk along a new soybean patch asking Obi-Wan about his work. Obi-Wan was happy to oblige, explaining their new farming ideas and how economies could rise and fall with a good harvest. 

“This will be your room.” Obi-Wan gestured to a small door. “Mine is just right over there. If you need anything before late meal, I’ll be in the main lab, which is just down this hall.” Obi-Wan still desperately needed to check his new seedlings and get them into proper soil before any damage could be done to their delicate root systems. The dry seeds would be fine until the following day, but the sample crop always needed immediate attention. 

“Would you mind if I joined you? I would like to see more of your work.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan said, surprised. “It is pretty boring. I just need to replant some seedlings.”

Qui-Gon grinned. “That sounds like exactly what I need right now.”

Walking into the lab always felt a bit like coming home to Obi-Wan, the smell of fresh earth and the almost glow of life in the Force greeting him. He quickly unloaded the pack, examining each of the twelve tiny plants while Qui-Gon wandered the lab, examining the different workstations and experiments. 

“You know, I had always thought that the AgriCorps were simply— ” Qui-Gon paused, trying to find the words. 

“That what, Master Jinn?” Obi-Wan snapped, setting his box on the desk with a sharp clank. “That we’re a bunch of initiates that failed to become a real Jedi and so just play around in the dirt all day? Washouts that couldn’t make the cut and so were sent to farms and labor camps where we can’t be a burden on the Jedi Order? We are much, much more than that Master Jinn. Some of us even choose to walk this path.” 

Obi-Wan had heard it all before, the soft mockery as he walked through the Temple’s halls on Coruscant between assignments, the whispers of his failure in his own heart. 

Qui-Gon hung his head, watching Obi-Wan. “That is not… Ben, I meant no attack. Only that what I had been led to understand about the Corps was that they simply fed the galaxy. What you have created here goes far beyond what I ever could have imagined.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan whispered softly before he looked back to his seedlings, unsure of how to make his apologies. All but one seemed to be healthy and strong, ready for their new home. Obi-Wan frowned at the twelfth, limp leaves mottled with brown spots. He would be able to save it, but it would take time and care, and a bit of guidance from the Force. 

“May I see?” Qui-Gon asked, holding out a hand for the pot in an apology of his own.

Obi-Wan handed Qui-Gon the seedling. “I’m not sure yet, but it looks like it may have a spot of root rot.” 

Qui-Gon held the plant between his palms, his forehead wrinkled in concentration. Something not unlike a breeze swept through the Force, warm and tender. It took Obi-Wan a moment to recognize it as Qui-Gon pushing a bit of himself into the plant, boosting it in a way not unlike how Obi-Wan himself used to alter and strengthen crops. 

Without another word, Qui-Gon handed the plant back for Obi-Wan to examine. The spots nearest the stem had already begun to brighten back to green.

“Thank you.” Obi-Wan said, surprised and a bit overwhelmed by the gesture. “That is very kind.”

“These beans,” Qui-Gon asked, changing the subject to bend down and run an elegant finger across a broad leaf of a nearby sample. This one was older, the bean pod just starting to form. “You said they give nutrients back into the soil?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes, soybeans naturally give the soil back nutrients that other crops need. These ones have been bred and encouraged through the Force to do so at a higher rate than others, while requiring far less water and moisture. Not to mention that the beans themselves have a variety of uses, and not just a nutrient dense food source.”

“Incredible.” Qui-Gon almost sounded awestruck by the simple plant. “And you yourself bred these?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. It was a complicated answer. “Both yes and no. I started much of the inquiry process on using the Force to change their DNA and encourage specific qualities to be more dominant, but much of the labor and actual experimentation done in the main lab on Coruscant. They have much better equipment and a much larger staff than I can have out here.”

“How did you discover such a use for the Force? It’s brilliant, yet highly unorthodox.”

Obi-Wan smiled, thinking of the sixteen year old boy who wanted nothing more than to finally leave Bandomeer after spending three years trying to raise crops that had no intention of surviving the harsh conditions, after watching mining slave after mining slave die or be hurt in a constant string of mega corporations’ pursuit of riches. He couldn’t fathom why more wasn’t being done by the Jedi or the Republic to help the people of the planet, to help them actually improve their lives. What was the point of sending the AgriCorps to a planet that was doomed to a slow death even if food could be planted. 

Obi-Wan had sought answers in the Force, meditating on what the people actually needed, how the crops they were struggling to grow could be encouraged to do so. He had always been much more connected to the Unifying Force than the Living, but Obi-Wan had learned to listen and be guided and the Force had responded to his plea.

“My first assignment was on Ban— on a planet that had been stripped dry of its resources and many of its citizens were slaves of one sort or another. Crops wouldn’t grow and the people had lost their hope. I found a discarded packet of Agamarian soybeans and on a whim I decided to plant them in my own personal time. When they started to sprout, I was so anxious, watching those tiny leaves burn under the brutal sun, that I subconsciously started to push my own life Force into them, encouraging them to adapt to their environment.

“I then took those plant’s seeds and replanted them and the new generation kept the genetic mutations I had encouraged and were able to grow on their own without my assistance. One of the older Corps members caught me when I started to plant the next generation and wanted to know why they were growing so well. The next day, the camp’s leader called me into his lab.”

Obi-Wan chuckled as he recounted the memory, the shocked look on the lab lead’s face as Obi-Wan described what he had been doing had been priceless. Using the Force to help crops grow had been part of the Corp’s duties for generations, but actually using that connection to alter the plants actual DNA was unthought of.

Desperate for results, they had taken the third generation and planted them in one of the fields proper. Much to Obi-Wan's surprise, they had begun to grow, yielding more harvest then their predecessors with half the amount of water previously used. 

Samples were soon sent to the main lab in Coruscant, where others had made even more modifications, resulting in the crops they were testing across the galaxy. The dry clay of Bandomeer soon turned into lush fields as further discoveries of the soybeans’ properties were made. Another member of the Corps had proposed using the fields to help encourage a sort of greenhouse, eventually leading to the development of manmade oases.

What Obi-Wan didn’t tell Qui-Gon, was what came after they had began to see progress, of the hostile attempts to stop the AgriCorps, of the bombings and rebellions and lives lost. Even after rumors of Xanatos’ suicide had reached Bandomeer and Offworld Mining had all but vanished, lasting peace was hard won for Bandomeer. Just as it was later on Jakku and feeding the war torn planet of Melinda/ Daan and now Tatooine.

But every challenge and set back had been well worth it and thousands, if not millions of lives had been changed for the better. And now Obi-Wan had a lab and crew of his own, people he cared about and cared about him. He idly touched his saber hanging by his side, an old habit. It, like Obi-Wan, had been remade many times over during the years, but held a reminder of a possible life. 

But now that life was standing in his lab, respectfully examining Obi-Wan’s soybean sprouts as if they were something sacred, something that should be cared for. Qui-Gon looked up from his examination and smiled at Obi-Wan, open and kind.

Obi-Wan discreetly tucked the saber deeper into his robes, out of Qui-Gon’s sight. It wouldn’t do to lose the only weapon he had before they rescued the younglings. 

“And the rest is history.” Obi-Wan continued. “Tatooine is the third planet we have used this method on, and the results seem to improve every time. These seedlings are the fifteenth generation of modified soybeans. Other camps have been doing similar tests on wheat and rice strains, and even some trees to start producing better air.”

“Simply remarkable. Can I ask, what made you join— ” 

A chime sounded in the lab, cutting off Qui-Gon’s question. Obi-Wan sagged a bit with relief. He wasn’t prepared to try and explain why he joined, or stayed with the AgriCorps. 

“Sounds like late-meal is ready. Are you hungry?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Famished.” Qui-Gon waved his hand for Obi-Wan to lead the way to the large canteen. 

Obi-Wan had expected Qui-Gon to join his own men and the Nabooians for their meal, but instead Qui-Gon followed him to Obi-Wan’s preferred table and had continued to ask questions throughout the meal, moving away from beans and into Obi-Wan’s other hobbies. He seemed especially interested in Obi-Wan’s budding tea growing operation and reading habits. The Jedi had opened up himself, sharing his own favorite blends and books. 

Hours later, when Obi-Wan had led Qui-Gon back to their quarters and crawled into bed, Obi-Wan’s heart was racing, keeping him awake far into the night, pondering what could have beens. 

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so overwhelmed by the amount of support you all have given this fic! Thank you so much!!!!   
> Thanks Chibi for the beta!!!

Over the next two days, Qui-Gon often surprised Obi-Wan. He had thought that the Jedi would attempt Watto at least a few more times, as anxious as the group seemed to be to leave Tatooine. Instead, Qui-Gon spent the days alternating between watching Obi-Wan’s experiments and testing, and working in the fields. He had even asked Obi-Wan to demonstrate how he had first started changing the soybeans with the Force. 

The sight of Qui-Gon’s tall profile bent low to the ground, his hands black with rich soil as he laughed with that day’s laborers, lit something deep inside of Obi-Wan’s heart, breaking open a piece of himself that had long been sealed away. 

Qui-Gon was nothing like Obi-Wan remembered. That Master had been deeply angry, his heart locked away behind a cage of betrayal and grief. This Qui-Gon was open, free in a way Obi-Wan would never have expected. Qui-Gon was gentle, helping the younglings plant their seeds as he told them stories of the galaxy and his life as a Jedi. Obi-Wan loved watching even the oldest youngling’s eyes widen in wonder as Qui-Gon described the frozen wastes of Hoth and the vast Mon Calamari seas. 

Qui-Gon stood and stretched, his lean muscles flexing and tightening while his long silver-streaked chestnut hair shone in the afternoon sun. Obi-Wan blushed when their eyes met, embarrassed at being caught. Qui-Gon was also far more handsome than Obi-Wan remembered, but then again the last time Obi-Wan had seen him he had been but a child, pleading for a Master to keep him from his destiny. 

Padme and the other handmaidens were also an unexpected addition to Obi-Wan’s workforce, lending a hand in the kitchens and even the laundry. Padme was often close to Qui-Gon, working and watching the camp with great interest, even if she was a bit aloof. 

The rest of the workday passed by quickly and again Obi-Wan was joined by Qui-Gon for late meal. He was eager to ask more questions. 

“Why doesn’t anyone call you by your title?” Qui-Gon paused for a moment. Obi-Wan smiled to himself as he watched realizations spiral through Qui-Gon’s mind. “Actually, what is your title or rank? I should have asked sooner.”

Obi-Wan laughed and shook his head. Only a Jedi Master would hold honorifics in such importance in a place as barren as Tatooine. 

“The AgriCorps don’t have or use titles or ranks. What use do we have for such things when we, what did you call it? Play in the dirt all day?” 

Qui-Gon grimaced at the reminder of their conversation his first night in the camp. “I am pretty sure you are the one that said that, not me.” 

Obi-Wan laughed again. “Still, the only exception is the AgriCorps Council of Masters that reside in the Temple on Coruscant on rotation, and that is more for the Jedi Grand Council’s comfort and convenience then our own ambitions for rank.”

Qui-Gon hummed. “How do you maintain order then?”

“We all have our own specialties and everyone knows the role they play and what they need to do. Traditional leadership is not really necessary and so we don’t use it, except for the Camp Leader. Even that is more a formality than anything else. Any one of the senior staff could replace them with ease.”

“And who is the camp leader here?” Qui-Gon asked, an elegant eyebrow arched in curiosity. “I don’t believe I have met them.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “That would be me.” 

Obi-Wan turned back to his stew, chuckling at Qui-Gon’s aborted choking sound. 

“You? But you’re so—” Qui-Gon gestured to all of Obi-Wan. “Young?”

“You should know after spending even just this long with us Qui-Gon, the Corps cares more about hard work and dedication than age. And truthfully, if I had become a proper Padawan, I would be of knighting age.”

Qui-Gon shook his head and huffed out a laugh of his own. “I should have realized sooner.”

“Like I said, we don’t really bother with formality, and I never told you.” Obi-Wan finished the last bit of bread and stew. “Now, how would you like to join me for my evening patrol?”

“I would like that very much.”

Evening patrol that night turned into the morning patrol the next day, and in the days that followed, Qui-Gon joined Obi-Wan more often than not as he did his daily rounds. Much like they had on Bandomeer, they worked well together, almost like two puzzle pieces fitting together in the Force. It was strange to Obi-Wan, comforting in an unfamiliar way. He would miss it once Qui-Gon returned to the inner rim. 

Every market day the Corps made their way into Mos Espa to pick up supplies and deliver raw materials to local producers, as well as give away samples of the crops to try and show the city what they were doing to help. They had discovered on Jakku that the easiest way to a people’s heart was through their stomachs, and so they would set up a stall in the market to sell beans in their pod, steamed or fried with various chilis and spices also grown by the Corps. 

It had become incredibly popular and Obi-Wan was in process of training two promising young women, wives Jame and Lysa, to permanently take over the food stall, who would in turn be able to hire employees of their own and hopefully open a permanent location eventually. 

Qui-Gon was eager to join Obi-Wan for market day, with Padme close on his heels. The small group set out early, a large repulsorlift cart attached to Nara’s harness, full of items to sell and hand out. 

Jame and Lysa had already set up the food service cart by the time they arrived, ready to unpack the fresh beans and fabrics woven from the cast off plant matter. The cloth was one of the newest products that another camp had developed, lightweight and durable, highly useful even if it was only able to produce a single off putting, yellow green color. 

Obi-Wan climbed onto the towering cart to unload the crates, passing them to Qui-Gon and the other helpers for the day. By the time he had made it through half of the load, Obi-Wan was sweating with the effort, his hair drooping into his eyes. He picked up a particularly heavy crate, and turned on his heel, only for the shift in weight to cause two of the lower boxes to slip apart under him, trapping his foot between them and sending Obi-Wan plummeting towards the ground, the crates tumbling down around him. 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes against the impact, sending out a small push with the Force to slow his fall and hopefully push away any crates that may cause himself or others damage. But instead of hitting the solid ground, Obi-Wan landed against something soft and warm, enveloped in strong arms. He blinked his eyes open in confusion, noticing that he was still a decent way off of the ground. 

“Are you alright?” Qui-Gon asked from above him, his deep voice rumbling through Obi-Wan’s very core. Qui-Gon was holding Obi-Wan against his chest like he weighed almost nothing, his brow furled in concern.

“Yes. Thank you.” Obi-Wan said and Qui-Gon gently lowered him to the ground, carefully avoiding the pile of spilled produce and crates. 

As he flexed his foot toward the grown, a sharp pain shot up Obi-Wan’s leg, most likely from getting caught between the boxes. Standing on his own two feet, Obi-Wan pushed a bit of the Force toward the affected area. It would be enough to get him through the morning, but he would likely need to make a visit to the healer when they got back to camp. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, Ben?” Qui-Gon gave him a disbelieving look when Obi-Wan nodded and hummed in agreement. 

Embarrassed, Obi-Wan tried to hide his wince when his ankle spasmed in pain under his own weight, worse than he had initially believed. Obi-Wan stood a bit straighter, balancing himself and strengthening his leg further with the Force. He moved back toward the cart, only to stumble forward once more. 

“Stubborn bantha.” Obi-Wan was immediately back in Qui-Gon’s arms, his leg tucked beside Qui-Gon’s hip to protect it from being jostled as the Jedi called for a chair and medikit. Obi-Wan could feel the sheepish blush creep up his cheeks in time with Qui-Gon’s steady heartbeat while they waited for the needed supplies. Qui-Gon’s gentle fingers played with the small wisps of hair behind Obi-Wan’s ear, comforting as they stroked against the tender skin of his neck. 

Jame soon brought their medikit and chair and Obi-Wan reached forward to unbuckle the boot. He could already feel the swelling and was eager to do what he could to get back on his feet. With a sigh, Qui-Gon pushed Obi-Wan back against the chair. 

“It’s alright, I can at least do this myself.” Obi-Wan smiled and reached for his boot. 

“Ben, for once in your life, let someone take care of you.” Qui-Gon insisted, pushing away Obi-Wan’s hands to unbuckle the boot. Qui-Gon’s gaze was unwavering and his concerned frown made Obi-Wan’s blush deepen as he whispered a soft  _ okay.  _

“Let’s get this boot off shall we.” Obi-Wan hissed as the firm pressure against the damaged flesh released. It was worse than Obi-Wan expected, and when his sock was removed Qui-Gon’s hold was the only thing keeping him in place. 

His ankle was already beginning to turn a sickly purple, swollen to double its size. Qui-Gon’s frown became impossibly deeper as he supported the limb and opened the medikit with his free hand. The kit was sparse, but Qui-Gon was able to wrap the ankle in a splint. With every pass of the bandage, the pressure eased and the pain seemed to slip into mere discomfort. Obi-Wan reached into the Force to aid in healing, but Qui-Gon had beat him to it, Force healing the injury with such strength that Obi-Wan would be surprised if he wasn’t almost entirely healed the next morning. 

Satisfied with his work, Qui-Gon stood with a soft grunt before telling Obi-Wan that he was on observation duty only the remainder of the day. Obi-Wan snorted in disagreement, but knew it was a losing battle to try and argue. 

Another senior staff member quickly stepped in Obi-Wan’s role and the cart was quickly unpacked and unhooked from Nara. 

“Ben.” Qui-Gon softly said, kneeling next to the chair. “We are finished preparing for the day. Would you let me take you back to camp so we can get you properly looked at?”

Obi-Wan nodded, watching the operation seamlessly move on without him, just as it should be. Obi-Wan smiled with pride, firm in the knowledge Tatooine would be in good hands no matter what the world may bring.

“Yes. That would be a good idea.”

Qui-Gon lifted Obi-Wan onto Nara’s saddle, climbing up behind him so his arms would wrap around Obi-Wan protectively. They made the journey slowly, Qui-Gon careful not to bump or further injure Obi-Wan’s leg. 

“Qui-Gon?” Obi-Wan broke the easy silence that had fallen between them. Qui-Gon hummed in reply. “Why did you bother to use the Force to help me instead of just taking me to the camp healer?”

“Ben, you give so much of yourself, it is high time you get something in return. Plus, you need to be able to rescue those younglings at a moment’s notice, so I simply gave your body the push it needed to get you there.”

“Thank you.” Obi-Wan said simply, his smile bright. 

“You are very welcome. You should probably get some rest.” Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan back against his chest, the gentle rhythm of his heart and Nara’s soft sway soon luring Obi-Wan into sleep. 

After that quiet ride back into camp, their relationship shifted, deepened in a way Obi-Wan found himself anxious to explore, even as he reminded himself Qui-Gon was only on Tatooine for a few more days at most. As soon as their mission was complete, the Master would be once more on his way, leaving Obi-Wan behind once more. At least this time Obi-Wan would be prepared and had made a home for himself in the AgriCorps, a place he was happy to stay. 

Despite everything, Obi-Wan wished he had simply told Qui-Gon who he really was. If he had, he realized, chances where their relationship would not be comfortable and trusting as it was, but at least he wouldn’t be living a lie. As it was, Obi-Wan found himself enjoying Qui-Gon’s companionship more and more by every passing day and it became more and more difficult to tell Qui-Gon the truth.

So when Qui-Gon himself broached the topic of Obi-Wan’s almost apprenticeship first, Obi-Wan was caught between fear of Qui-Gon’s anger at his lies that burned like lead in Obi-Wan’s veins, and hope that Qui-Gon was finally able to see him for who he truly was. 

They had spent the afternoon in the teaching center, helping younglings and adults alike with learning to read and write basic, as well as common math that would help them better manage their finances. 

Watching Qui-Gon teach had been a pleasure, the Jedi’s kindness and patience boundless. He had been assigned a group of younglings that were struggling with their letters and numbers. Qui-Gon carefully folded his long frame, kneeling on a rough handwoven mat so he could look each child in the eye, treating each with individual attention and the utmost respect. 

Obi-Wan caught himself observing Qui-Gon more than once throughout the afternoon, heart full at the sight of the once imposing master surrounded by frankly filthy younglings who hung on his every word. Eventually, the group had caught Qui-Gon teasing them and the entire group had dissolved into a fit of giggles, the younglings piling onto Qui-Gon until he toppled to the floor, rich laughter filling the room. 

The lesson had soon ended, teacher Aiva unable to ever fully restore order to the class after such a spectacle. The younglings were sent home to enjoy a rare early day off, leaving Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon the afternoon to make some general maintenance to the camp’s force shield generators. They were a newer installation designed to help limit the amount of damage done to the crops by sandstorms and the intense summer sunlight, as well as lighter attacks from sand people or Hutt raiders. 

The design had one major flaw; while they could protect the crops from the sand, they couldn’t protect themselves from the same fate. Sand and debris often found its way deep into the circuitry and could potentially do enough damage over time that the generators would be unable to run when they were needed the most. They had been promised better sealed units, but the replacements were not a priority and so maintenance was done on each unit every few days. 

“Thank you for today. For letting me teach.” Qui-Gon handed Obi-Wan yet another tiny screwdriver. Obi-Wan quirked his eyebrow at the sentiment. Teaching a rambunctious class of younglings was not something he was usually thanked for.

“I…” Qui-Gon stopped and took a deep breath. “It has been a very long time since I have had the opportunity. Or, I should say, it has been a very long time since I have taken the opportunity. A long time ago, I betrayed someone who should have been taught as a Padawan.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes met his, and Obi-Wan went still, all at once hoping Qui-Gon knew the truth, and terrified that Qui-Gon would want to leave him once more for being a disappointment, and a liar. 

But, Qui-Gon continued on without accusation. “He was a brilliant Initiate, strong in the Unifying Force in a way I have never encountered before, nor since. He would have been one of the greatest Jedi to ever live if only given the opportunity. Instead, I left him on a planet that was no place for a child because I was unable to see past my own pain and the mistakes of another. Even after—”

Qui-Gon’s voice hitched with sorrow. “Even after I met with a mindhealer and spent years following trying to release my fears and pain into the Force, teaching a Padawan is still far outside of my abilities. I just wish I did more for him then, could have been the Master he deserved.” 

Tears stung Obi-Wan’s eyes, burning hot against his cheeks as he looked into Qui-Gon’s regret stricken face. Without another thought, Obi-Wan tugged Qui-Gon close, embracing the Jedi so that Qui-Gon’s head rested on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, his broad body cradled in his arms as they knelt in the sun warmed sand. 

While Qui-Gon shook with quiet sobs, Obi-Wan held him tighter, releasing his own old fear and anger into the Force. Feelings Obi-Wan didn’t even know he still carried in his heart bubbled to the surface, reflected in Qui-Gon’s own that shimmered in the Force.

“Qui-Gon, I— Whoever he was, I am sure he has found his own way forward. The Force always provides a way to those who listen. And from everything you have said about him, he listened.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, for the lovely Mid! And thank you again for the beta Chibi!

Obi-Wan had just finished his report for the evening while Qui-Gon poured over whatever novel he had been able to scrounge up in the lab, when the Force sent a flair of warning and alarms broke the camp’s quiet peace. 

“Someone is attacking the shields.” Obi-Wan threw on his saber belt and ran for the door, Qui-Gon close behind. 

“Tusken Raiders?” 

“If we’re lucky. But, I have a feeling it's the Hutts’ men again.”

They broke free of the building and joined a group heading into the field. Obi-Wan could see lights and fire in the distance, along with the shouts of a mob. He sped his stride with every step, using the Force to propel him forward. He had been fortunate that Qui-Gon had been so adamant about using the Force to assist in healing his ankle. There was only a slight lingering tenderness he would need to ease away later that evening, but it held stable and strong as they slid to a stop in front of one of the shield generators. 

A dozen or so Hutt sympathizers and loyalists were tearing it apart, bit by bit, while others were bare handedly ripping up rows of bean plants, throwing them into waiting crates. Obi-Wan recognized many of them as part of the same mob they met outside of Akim’s. 

Qui-Gon jumped into action first, leaping between the mob and the generator, igniting his lightsaber as he fell into perfect form. Under different circumstances, Obi-Wan would have loved to watch him work, moving smoothly from one position to the next to deflect blows and blaster bolts. 

Obi-Wan followed suit, comforted by the warm hum of his own blade in his hand. He might not have had the forms and training of a padawan, but he had spent years dealing with some of the galaxy’s worst thieves and ruffians. Often it wasn’t his actual combat skills that did the most good, but just the sight and sound of a saber paired with a confident smile. And now that there were two lightsabers in play…

Obi-Wan grinned when the obvious leader of the group, a large Trandoshan, took a few steps back, his men whispering in concern. 

“You do know we give these away for free right?” Obi-Wan said, twirling the blade. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to just come get some processed ones? It's a whole lot easier than trying to deshell and clean the prickly bastards.” 

“We don’t want anything from you, Jedi scum! Only for you to get off our planet.” The Trandoshan bellowed, drawing a blaster. 

“So uncivilized.” Obi-Wan shrugged and dropped low, running forward with his saber outstretched to block the mob’s blaster bolts. He aimed for the blasters and weapons themselves, avoiding causing the men any actual injury. The last thing he needed was a a Hutt bounty on his head for killing their friends. 

Another blaster fired as Obi-Wan spun, but it was far too close for him to block, speeding towards his chest. He dropped to the ground in an attempt to dodge, but a green saber fell in front of him, deflecting the bolt back to the man who shot it. 

“Are you alright?” Obi-Wan looked up to see Qui-Gon above him in a defensive stance.

“Better then I would have been without you.” Obi-Wan smiled as Qui-Gon outstretched his hand. 

“Together then.” Qui-Gon nodded towards the remaining men. 

Much as they had so many years before on Banomeer, they moved as one, guided by the Force to deflect another volley before rushing forward towards the remaining mob. Some of the remaining men turned on their heels and bolted for their speeders, unwilling to face Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon head on. 

With the Hutt’s numbers so low, the fight was over before it could even really begin, Qui-Gon quite literally disarming their leader while Obi-Wan cut through much of the remaining weaponry. Obi-Wan smirked when a familiar voice cut through the night, calling the Hutts to retreat, sending any that remained running for the sand dunes, leaving their gear and stolen goods. 

Obi-Wan couldn’t contain the laugh that bubbled out of him as they watched the retreating men, slipping on the loose dirt.

“Should we go after them?” One of the senior staff asked.

“No, better that they return to their master in shame.” Obi-Wan shook his head and called out a few directions and his own crew went to work, seeing if any of the removed plants could be replanted or salvaged. Any too damaged to eat or put into the production lines would be used for composting, but even the smallest plant lost would set them back. Qui-Gon hung back, watching Obi-Wan with curiosity as he directed the team. 

“You’ve had training as a Jedi? Why didn’t you say anything?” Qui-Gon asked once the damage had been assessed and they were preparing to return to camp. 

“Not in the way you are thinking.” Obi-Wan threw Qui-Gon the saber hilt, a hodgepodge of scraps and metal to house the tiny training kyber and old ignition components. “Take a look. It’s a modified Initiate training saber. When I was sent to the AgriCorps at thirteen, no one bothered to take it back and so I put it to use.” 

Qui-Gon reverently ran his hand down the hilt, examining the workmanship and modifications. He shifted and for a moment Obi-Wan was worried the blade would finally be confiscated after so many years at his side. Instead, Qui-Gon pulled a rag from his pocket to wipe away a bit of dirt.

“Where did you learn to fight like that then, if you weren’t trained?” Qui-Gon asked, sounding impressed, handing the hilt back to Obi-Wan. “I have seen senior padawans unable to wield a saber so well, or so confidently.”

Obi-Wan blushed, hoping Qui-Gon wouldn’t notice in the dark. “I aged out of the Initiates and sort of just kept practicing what I remembered. My form is nowhere near correct, and the saber itself is pretty weak, but it commands a sort of respect I couldn’t get with a blaster.”

Qui-Gon hummed. “Somehow, I doubt that it is the saber that commands the respect.”

Obi-Wan’s blush deepened even further. He picked up one of the boxes of compost, Qui-Gon following suit. They walked in silence, the only sound between them the whistle of the breeze though the leaves. 

Qui-Gon broke the heavy silence. “Something has been bothering me about this raid. Maybe you could shed some light for me?”

“Sure. Ask away.”

“Why would the Hutts attack the crops and shield generators? Don’t they benefit from what you produce?”

“They do, but they don’t see it like that. They used to be able to control everything on Tatooine, from the people and slave trade, to the food and water supply. We have changed all of that and let's just say they have found it hard to be at the bottom of the food chain.” 

Obi-Wan dumped his load of compost and made his way to a nearby table, fidgeting with the now empty crate. 

“But why not attack Mos Espa, or the camp itself directly?”

“There’s a couple reasons. One, there aren't enough of them anymore. After I— After the slaves freed themselves, many of the Hutt’s crew were driven from the palace and even left the planet. The ones that stayed would rather make snide comments and cause brawls at Akim’s than actually work again. All of the inside reports are that the group we saw tonight is about all that's actually left.”

Obi-Wan grunted with effort as metal scraped on metal and there was a soft popping sound, like sealed air escaping. 

“And the other reason?” Qui-Gon asked, carrying his own empty crate to the table.

Obi-Wan grinned. “Well, in this case, it means that our man inside needed to get me some information rather urgently. Ah! Here it is!” With another shift of the crate, Obi-Wan triumphantly lifted a small data disk from the back of the box. “It also means that the Hutts are comfortable enough to start sending their men out on raids, which in turn means he is going to move the kids soon. Hopefully Quinlan’s message here tells us where they were being held, and exactly how many younglings there are.”

“Knight Quinlan Vos?” Qui-Gon asked, his eyebrow raised. 

“The one and only. I am surprised you know him, with how deep undercover he has been. I swear he has been with the Hutts almost as long as I’ve been off Bandomeer.”

There was a flicker of surprise in Qui-Gon’s eyes. “We were partnered for a mission not long after his knighting. He’s a good man, and a brilliant spy.”

Obi-Wan hummed in agreement, setting the disk into a pocket. “Let’s go see what our dear spy has to say, shall we?”

When they were secure in Obi-Wan’s quarters and finally able to decode the disk, it wasn’t quite the message Obi-Wan was hoping to receive. 

The Hutts had decided to move the younglings and their operation off Tatooine as soon as possible, unwilling to face two Jedi in their efforts to reclaim the planet. While Obi-Wan would be glad to be rid of the Hutts and hopefully much of their lingering influence, getting the younglings out before they were moved in just over a day would be tough. 

“Thirty minutes? Is that enough time?” Qui-Gon asked, reviewing the palace’s schematics. Quinlan had not only sent a message, but also a plan to get the younglings, and himself, out of the palace. The plan was to hopefully cut the Hutts off from the younglings after the majority of the palace had loaded into transport, but before the children had been moved to the loading dock.

“It should be, but barely. Quinlan is going to create a distraction here,” Obi-Wan points to a small courtyard, followed by the tallest tower, “and here, once we have climbed to this window, far away from both the loading area and the children. They will load Jabba and his family onto the transport before anyone else, trying to protect them from the faked attack, and giving us thirty minutes to get from our entry point to the younglings while the Hutts deal with whatever the distractions may be.”

“And what if they change plans at the last minute? Load the younglings first?” 

“Then Quinlan will steal the ship with the younglings on it, Hutts and his cover be damned.”

Qui-Gon hummed, unconvinced, but it was the only shot they had. There were five younglings, one of which had been injured when they arrived. Quinlan didn’t think that the injuries were great enough to hinder their escape, but it would be better to be prepared. 

Obi-Wan yawned, looking over Quinlan’s plans once more. Ideally, their escape wouldn’t be hindered much at all, hopefully ending with the Hutts choosing to cut their losses instead of fighting for five younglings. Once they got to the children, they would need to guide them through a series of tunnels under the palace to where Quinlan would be waiting with a stolen vehicle for extraction. 

Quinlan had also cryptically mentioned that they needed to keep to the extraction schedule or whatever he was planning to drive away the Hutts would keep them from getting the younglings out as well. 

Qui-Gon placed a firm hand on his shoulder, pulling Obi-Wan from his thoughts. “You should get some rest. We have much to prepare tomorrow and it has been a long night.” 

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement and turned off Quinlan’s message. With a gentle touch, Qui-Gon led Obi-Wan to his table and into a chair, asking Obi-Wan about his ankle. Obi-Wan had barely even noticed it, his adrenaline keeping the tenderness at bay. Once Qui-Gon had pointed it out, the pain crept back in. He instinctively flexed the foot, hiding his wince.

Before Obi-Wan could protest, Qui-Gon knelt and lightly prodded the area before asking if he could remove the boot. Obi-Wan nodded and could feel Qui-Gon’s Force presence nudge at his very being, healing the new damage.

“Qui-Gon, it is quite all right. I can heal myself, or just run over to the medic. All that is left is some light swelling.”

“I know you can, but I  _ want  _ to help.” 

Seeing the kindness in Qui-Gon’s eyes, Obi-Wan knew that he had lost, but how much more than just this fight, he could not tell. Obi-Wan whispered his thanks, letting Qui-Gon continue as they finalized their plans. 

“Ob-Ben. I— ” Qui-Gon gently set Obi-Wan’s leg down before joining him at the table. “When I leave for Coruscant, would you come with me? I know you are far too old to become a Padawan, but you should still be trained as a proper Jedi. You… you are so strong with the Force, and I—”

“Qui-Gon.” Obi-Wan smiled and raised a hand to stop Qui-Gon from continuing. “That time has long passed. I am happy here, on Tatooine, in the Corps. If the Force had wanted me to become a Padawan, you— I would have been taken on by a Master. I am exactly where the Force needs me to be.”

Qui-Gon bowed his head with a sigh. “As the Force wills then.”

Sleep eluded Obi-Wan that night, his thoughts caught between the desires of his heart and logic of his mind.

The following day spun by in a frenzy of preparations. Even with Quinlan’s detailed plan, they needed to prepare for the worst. With much of the camp unaware of Obi-Wan’s less than Jedi Order sanctioned activities, anything they needed fell to Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon to take care of themselves. The only exception was Sanya, who would take them in a speeder to a predetermined drop point about five miles from the palace walls. 

With every passing moment, Obi-Wan began to dread his lonely future when Qui-Gon left him behind once more, even knowing that this was the path that the Force would have him walk. He had already made his choice, to stay in the AgriCorps, to continue his work. But that did not mean he wouldn’t miss Qui-Gon’s companionship, even with the lies and history between them. 

They set out well before dawn, using the cover of the night to reach their drop point. The rest of the journey was long and dangerous, the sands always shifting and hiding dangerous pitfalls. They moved slowly through the cold night air, the silence heavy between them as they climbed the rocky ledge that would lead them to the designated entry point. 

The palace walls would have been dangerous to climb even with light to guide them, long worn smooth by the endless sandstorms and heat that destroyed any footholds that may have once been, and in the dark predawn morning, such a climb would have been impossible if not for the rope left by Quinlan and the Force to aid their ascent. 

As they reached the overhang under the bay of windows, Qui-Gon stopped for a moment and called out to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan responded with an idle hum, preparing for the Force assisted swing and towering jump they would need to make to clear the protrusion. 

“I have been thinking about what you said the other night, about being where the Force wants you. And where the Force wants me.” Qui-Gon stopped, looking at Obi-Wan intently. Their climb had left them closer than Obi-Wan had realized, the ropes tied to the same bar of durasteel. Obi-Wan could feel Qui-Gon’s warm breath against his cheek. 

“After I’ve taken the Queen home, I plan on coming back. I want to help you and the AgriCorps, if you will have me, that is.” Carefully, Qui-Gon brushed his thumb across Obi-Wan’s chin, and for a moment, Obi-Wan thought Qui-Gon would kiss him, but Qui-Gon pulled away, climbing the stone face once more to get them into position. 

Obi-Wan’s heart pounds, echoing in his chest. “Qui-Gon, you are always welcome here.”

Qui-Gon’s smile was brighter than the breaking dawn as he leapt, pushing himself far from the wall to catch the edge of the overhang. Obi-Wan followed suit, summersaulting to land higher than Qui-Gon. He reached out a hand and pulled Qui-Gon onto the roof proper.

No sooner had they crept through the window, then two large charger blasts shook the palace’s very foundation, sending them both ducking to the floor.

“That must be our distraction.” 

“It is a bit much even for him, don’t you think?” Qui-Gon chuckled.

“Possibly, but he has been stuck with the unsavory lot for who knows how long. He might as well get to properly enjoy his exit.” 

They twisted and wove their way through the empty palace, Quinlan’s distraction drawing the attention of the entire Hutt crew. It took longer than Obi-Wan had anticipated to navigate the dirty hallways, but eventually they found the ventilation shaft that would take them to the depths of the palace where the younglings’ holding cells were located. 

“What goes up, must come down I suppose. Would you like to go first, or shall I?” Obi-Wan looked down the narrow passage they would need to freefall down. It seemed like such a waste to climb all this way only to go back down. 

“I’ll go first in case there is anything unpleasant at the bottom. You have a better chance of getting those younglings out alone than I.” Without waiting for Obi-Wan’s response, Qui-Gon vaulted into the darkness, only the faint flutter of fabric indicating he had moved at all.

Running footsteps and furious voices echoed down the adjoining hall and, unable to wait any longer, Obi-Wan jumped as well, the Force slowing his descent through the stone vent. It was a tight fit and he ideally wondered how Qui-Gon’s boots fared on his way down, Obi-Wan’s own close to scraping. 

When he landed in the middle of a large hallway, Qui-Gon was nowhere to be found, and for a moment, Obi-Wan’s heart stopped. The rancid stench of unwashed persons and rot filled his nose, making Obi-Wan gag.

“Qui-Gon!” He hissed through clenched teeth, drawing his saber. 

“Over here Ben!” Qui-Gon called from farther down the corridor.

Obi-Wan ran, sliding to a halt next to the body of a single guard. Qui-Gon was kneeling in an open cell, five small, dirty lumps surrounding him as if drawn to his light and warmth.

“Now, I understand one of you has been injured. Shad, was it?” Qui-Gon softly asked and a brown haired boy nodded. 

“I was, but Ani took care of it.” He lifted up his arm, showing a bright pink scar but no further sign of injury. 

“What do you mean?” Obi-Wan knelt to examine Shad’s arm, brows furrowed as he glanced to Anakin who simply shrugged. 

The Force almost seemed to shimmer around the healed flesh, echoing Anakin's Force signature. Obi-Wan looked to Qui-Gon who nodded in agreement, mutual understanding dawning between them. Somehow, Anakin was strong enough in the Force that even completely untested and untrained, he had easily healed Shad without any cost to himself. 

Now that Obi-Wan knew what to look for, Anakin was almost blinding in the Force, his signature far brighter than that of Obi-Wan or Qui-Gon, or even any of the Master’s Obi-Wan had once known as a youngling. Obi-Wan would have been surprised that he had not noticed before, but there had never truly been an opportunity or reason for him to  _ look.  _

“Ben, we need to get them out of here. Time is almost up.” Qui-Gon lifted the smallest of the younglings into his arms, a young girl of only five or six. 

“Are you all ready?” Obi-Wan asked. “We will need to be quiet, but run very quickly. Do you all think you can do that for me?”

A tiny chorus of yeses responded, with varying levels of surety. 

“Excellent. Now, Follow Master Jinn and I will be right behind you.” 

The younglings nodded and Qui-Gon took the lead, moving swiftly through the dungeons. Their next step was to locate a broken drain and make their way into the tunnels under the palace, which was easier said than done in the dim light and debris covered floors. 

“This way!” Anakin yelled, voice full of calm surety. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon glanced at each other, feeling the  _ correctness  _ of his declaration in the Force. 

They followed the boy’s lead down a side tunnel, finally he stopped in front of the cracked grate. Qui-Gon slid down the short ramp first and Obi-Wan lowered the children one by one down into his arms.

“There he is!” Someone shouted behind them and a blister bolt narrowly missed Obi-Wan’s skull. He dodged and rolled, tucking the last child to his chest. 

Five or six Hutt men came pouring out of another hall, running at Obi-Wan and the child. 

“Get them out of here!” Obi-Wan yelled to Qui-Gon as he quickly stood and lowered her down the ramp and drew his saber in defense.

“What about you?” Qui-Gon’s voice was rough with worry as it echoed from below.

“Don’t worry about me, just get those younglings out of here. I’ll find another way.” 

Obi-Wan looked away from the ramp and slid the broken grate back together with a small push from the Force, blocking the Hutts from following Qui-Gon. 

“Hello there.” He called to the Hutts, drawing their attention to himself. 

The Trandoshan leader growled, his recently severed arm poorly bandaged and he waived a blaster around with his other. He fired at Obi-Wan, wildly off target. 

“Looks like you might need a hand with that blaster. I may have a spare laying around back home. I think it may even match.” 

Obi-Wan huffed out a laugh as another bolt was fired and hit the opposite wall. He easily continued to dodge the next round of bolts, pushing the group backwards away from the grate as he parried the bolts back into the group, injuring one of the men. 

If he had more time, a better saber, more training, he would have been able to do more, actually remove the men as a threat. As it was, his options were limited. If he chose to stand his ground and fight, he knew that he would most likely succeed, but it would use precious time he didn’t have. 

Whatever Quinlan was planning was going to happen soon, and Obi-Wan would rather be as far away as he could be before it happened. Obi-Wan spun on his heel and ran down the hall, following the pull of the Force through the palace toward the general direction of the rendezvous point, the Trandoshan never too far behind. 

A sliver of sunlight shone and the stale air started to clear as he sprinted up a spiral staircase bursting out onto a narrow durasteel catwalk high above where Qui-Gon and the younglings should have emerged from the sewers. From his vantage point, Obi-Wan was unable to see if they had made it out, the exit hidden by a rock outcropping. 

More blaster fire soared over Obi-Wan’s head as his pursuers crammed onto the walkway. Gathering the Force to himself, Obi-Wan  _ pushed  _ them backwards towards the doorway and back down the stairs, grunting with the effort. 

Before they could collect themselves, he jumped, grabbing hold of a flagpole jutting from the tower and flinging himself onto the next wall, into a corner of sorts. The space between was short enough Obi-Wan was able to leapfrog his way down, finally sliding to a stop. His alternate exit had left Obi-Wan just a short jog away from where he was needed. 

Except for a half dozen boot prints, there was no sign of Qui-Gon once he had found and frantically searched the outlet. Looking to the Force, Obi-Wan only felt a lingering sense of peace, that they had made it out of the Palace and he began to suspect that they had long gone. 

Obi-Wan’s heart fell even as it was flooded with relief that the younglings were most likely safe. He would need to formulate a plan to get back to camp without any survival supplies. After the Hutt’s left there would be the possibility that they would abandon supplies or even a broken speeder he could repair. With a determined nod, Obi-Wan made his way back to the sewer pipe, where he hoped he would be safe enough from Quinlan’s final distraction and from any lingering Hutt guards. 

Before he could duck back inside, a small stone hit Obi-Wan’s back with a soft thud before falling to the ground. Obi-Wan glanced behind him, a second stone landing against his turned shoulder. Anakin waived from behind another ledge, hidden from sight from the palace and Obi-Wan’s search.. 

“Have you seen Quinlan?” Obi-Wan asked once he crouched next to Qui-Gon. 

“I think that may be him now.” Qui-Gon pointed to a speeding vehicle racing across the desert sands. 

“I suspect you are right. How are the younglings?”

“As well as can be expected. We ran a couple mishaps on the way, but with Anakin’s help everyone is safe and ready to be home.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to ask about the mishaps when a earth shattering explosion rumbled through the palace, dislodging rocks and debris. It was closely followed by a second and a third discharge and the ground began to fracture, spiderwebbing out from the palace walls, and sending them running towards Quinlan’s speeder. 

Quinlan slammed to a dusty stop as a fourth and final explosion went off, a crack forming along the tallest tower, sending the roof sliding off into a courtyard below. 

“I figured one more couldn’t hurt, really make them unwelcome.” Quinlan laughed and pointed high above them, where three starships had begun to enter hyperspace.

As they loaded the children into the speeder, the once proud palace continued to crumble, smaller blasts going off as the fires and damage destroyed walls and generators. 

Once everyone was secure and they had begun the long journey home, Quinlan threw Obi-Wan a small wrapped bundle. Obi-Wan unwrapped it before holding it out to Qui-Gon with the brightest smile he could muster. 

“As promised, your payment, Master Jinn.” The younglings had curled up in the tight back seat, Qui-Gon wedged underneath them. He was careful not to disturb the small snores and yawns as he took it. 

Qui-Gon twisted the part in his hand. It was practically new, glittering in the bright sun. But when Obi-Wan looked away from the sparkling metal, Qui-Gon’s soft gaze was on him, as if the real prize was not what he held in his hands. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is probably a couple days out, this fic has grown legs (as you can see by the change in chapter number) and run away with me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this took me long enough to get done...  
> I hope you enjoy Mid!   
> Thank you for the beta chibi!

Their arrival back to camp was quiet in the still early sunlight. Many of the day’s laborers and AgriCorps members were already out in the fields, unaware that anything outside of their typical morning had happened.

The only exception was a gathering of huddled parents and guardians just outside the lab’s entrance, their tear filled eyes eagerly trained on the speeder. Obi-Wan could see their shoulders and faces relax as one by one the sleepy children were offloaded, droopy-eyed from their nap and exhausted from their ordeal before breaking into laughter and smiles when greeted by their families. 

For too long, such happiness had come too little and too late, if it found the people of Tatooine at all. Obi-Wan couldn’t help his own small smile when one small girl leapt into her mothers arms, giggling with delight. Quinlan helped the last child to their parents and restarted the speeder to take it to the garage to be stripped, removing any trace of the Hutts before being turned into another shuttle or another field machine. 

Quinlan begged a ride back to Coruscant with Qui-Gon, he was due at the Temple for some very hard-earned respite and eventual reassignment to parts unknown. He would need to keep his head down while the Hutts had their manhunt and resettled into complacency. 

“Obi-Wan, can I borrow your medikit for a few moments?” Qui-Gon’s hand was heavy and solid on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, grounding in a way Obi-Wan appreciated as his own weariness began to creep in.

“Of course, it’s in my room. Do you need any help?” Obi-Wan asked, a prickle of tension forming in the back of his skull. He must be more exhausted than he had thought. 

“No, that is quite alright.” Qui-Gon waived Anakin over. “Ani, why don’t you join me for a moment? Let’s get that cut taken care of before you head home, shall we? Wouldn’t want you to get an infection.”

Despite his desire to follow Qui-Gon’s retreating form, Obi-Wan was pulled into a flurry of hugs and handshakes and whispered _ thank yous _ he knew he didn’t really deserve. Quinlan and Qui-Gon had been the ones that got the children to safety and Quinlan had practically planned the entire rescue. 

Obi-Wan stiffly smiled and made polite conversation, letting the younglings pull him this way and that, all the while careful to avoid too many details of what had transpired. The word of the Hutts’ retreat would soon spread over the planet and he would much rather the story be made by the people than to have any false glory be given to himself. 

Eventually, the midday shuttle to Mos Espa arrived and the other families dispersed to take their younglings home just as Qui-Gon and Anakin left the lab, waving to Shmi and Cliegg. Anakin had a new bounce in his step, showing off his freshly healed cut with a smile. Qui-Gon’s brow was deeply furrowed in concentration. 

Before he could join them, Obi-Wan was pulled aside to give approval on a reprogramming of one of the planting droids. By the time the tech’s rambling explanation was done and Obi-Wan had pressed his thumb to the datapad to sign off, he felt himself truly begin to sag under his own fatigue. 

As Obi-Wan approached, Qui-Gon was standing between Shmi and Anakin, their voices hushed. Shmi was curled in on herself, distressed as she watched Anakin’s grin spread. Qui-Gon’s lips moved as he asked her a question, her frown deepening as she replied with a shake of her head. Obi-Wan neared, catching the final dregs of their conversation. 

“ — take him to Coruscant, to be tested by the Council. The boy has the potential to become a great Jedi. Possibly one of the greatest to ever live.” Qui-Gon placed his elegant hand on Anakin’s shoulder, firm and protective. 

Obi-Wan stopped a few feet away, suddenly reluctant to get any closer, even if he was unable to look away from Qui-Gon’s lingering hand. The same hand that had rested on Obi-Wan’s shoulder so many years before as Qui-Gon rejected him as a Padawan for that final time. The same hand that had pushed him back, turned him away from the ship’s gangplank to face Bandomeer alone. 

This time, Qui-Gon stood tall and proud behind the youngling, kind and accepting, loving in his own way, as if he would run to the ends of the galaxy for this youngling he had just met. 

Obi-Wan rolled his shoulders, soothing away the pain and fears of the past as best as he could. The Force had guided them to each other, not once, but twice. Qui-Gon had promised that he would come back, that he would help Obi-Wan and the Corps. Even if Qui-Gon was redirected onto another mission and couldn’t fulfill that promise, as a deep part of Obi-Wan knew was the most likely outcome for Qui-Gon’s visit to the Coruscant, it had been a lifetime since that day on Bandomeer. 

No, Obi-Wan thought with a shake of his head, he had become someone he could be proud of being. Someone, that in his own small way had helped the galaxy, even if it was just by feeding them starchy, tasteless beans and a dozen byproducts thereof. He didn’t need to be a Jedi to make a difference, no matter how loudly the scared youngling within his heart protested. 

“It’s not a choice I can make for him.” Shmi looked at Anakin worriedly, her smile sad as she weighed Qui-Gon’s words. While someone that shined in the Force as bright as Anakin did would always face trials of their own, with proper training he would grow into being a fine Jedi, the galaxy at his fingertips.

“Anakin,” Qui-Gon knelt next to the child. “This is a choice you need to make on your own. It will take us just over a day or so to finish repairing the ship. Would you think about it, and let me know in the morning?”

Anakin nodded before looking up at his mother, “Would I still be able to see my mom? A Jedi can do whatever they want right?” Anakin held her hand tighter, pulling himself against her side. 

The earnestness of the question made Obi-Wan’s heart ache. Anakin looked so small in that moment, so insecure. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel for the boy, far too young to be taken from his parents, but far too old to forget who they were like the rest of the Jedi had. 

Qui-Gon’s frown deepened. “Even the Jedi have their limits, Anakin. But, I am sure we could discuss such visits with the Council. Does that sound fair?”

Anakin nodded in agreement even as Obi-Wan’s eyebrows raised in surprise. Such things were not typically done, younglings were raised with the expectation that the Jedi would be their family, the Order their home. It was part of what made being sent into the Service Corps so difficult for many initiates. Between one dawn and the next a child went from having a home in the Temple with those they loved, to being sent lightyears away to a barren planet surrounded by strangers. 

There must be a reason Qui-Gon would agree to discussing such terms with the Council, why he was so desperate for Anakin to go with him to Coruscant. It was a question Obi-Wan would need to ask that evening when they were alone. 

“Master Jinn. Was your mission successful?” Padme asked from behind them. 

Qui-Gon nodded. “I was. We should be able to leave tomorrow after the morning meal.”

“Master Jedi, we do not have— ” Qui-Gon raised a hand, stopping the young woman from continuing. 

“Tomorrow.” Qui-Gion said firmly, “After a mechanic has a chance to finish repairs to the ship.” He handed her the part, still wrapped in its dirty cloth. “If Her Majesty is so anxious to leave, why don’t you take this to the captain? I am sure he can find someone to install it.”

Padme hesitantly took the part and left, another handmaid appearing to trail behind as they went in search of the pilot. Anakin watched in awe as they left, eyes bright and curious. 

“Ani, I think it is time for us to head home.” Shmi held out her hand for Anakin to take. “You have a lot to think about.”

Obi-Wan waived in farewell before he and Qui-Gon made their way to their quarters in silence. Obi-Wan had more questions weighing on his heart than words to ask them. 

And then there was the biggest bridge Obi-Wan would need to cross. The truth of who he was and the circumstances that brought him to where he was and the biggest truth of them all. Even though Obi-Wan was certain he had come to know Qui-Gon well enough to know he would accept Obi-Wan’s apology with grace and even acceptance, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he deserved it after keeping the charade up for as long as he had. And his time was running out to set things right.

“Qui-Gon?” Obi-Wan stopped, his throat thick as he tried to find the words to say, to explain.

“Hum?” Qui-Gon yawned, his voice betraying the day’s toll. Qui-Gon may be a Jedi, and a powerful Force sensitive, but he was still human. A human that needed rest like any other. 

“I don’t think I need to be anywhere anytime soon. I think I am going to turn in for a few hours.” Obi-Wan continued, a different plan coming to mind. 

“I know you have a lot to do before you leave tomorrow, but would you please have late meal with me? I mean, just the two of us. I would like to show you something. My favorite part of Tatooine that is,” Obi-Wan fumbled out. 

Qui-Gon yawned again through his grin. “It would be my honor to share such a meal with you.”

Obi-Wan could feel the burning blush creep across his cheeks and neck, his ears burning red under Qui-Gon’s gaze. Something about Qui-Gon made him feel  _ seen  _ for the first time in his existence, like he was someone worth while. It was a nice feeling, even if it was just his heart playing tricks. Qui-Gon had much bigger fish in his life than a farmer, no matter what promises had been made. 

“I’ll see you this evening then.” 

“Rest well my friend.”

Obi-Wan bowed in farewell and slipped into his quarters, blushing further at Qui-Gon’s smile. 

Despite his best intentions for rest, Obi-Wan’s afternoon all too soon slipped through his fingers. Even his meditation left him with more questions than answers. It seemed he was doomed to a constant spiral, caught between his logic and his heart. 

His ever betraying heart that couldn’t help but swell at the thought of Qui-Gon coming back to Tatooine, of Qui-Gon coming back _ for him  _ no matter what capacity that meant, that hoped to be loved in the way he was beginning to love Qui-Gon. 

A brisk knock at his door pulled Obi-Wan from his thoughts and back into his lab. One of the researchers had been assigned to study an anomaly in their recent crop, nothing that would impact the harvest in any real way, but a line of inquiry they needed to follow nonetheless. 

The flowers of the soybeans were naturally purple, almost blue in the sunlight. But as the Corps had cultivated this specific breed, many of the offspring had begun to develop paler and paler blooms, until the most recent were left a silver tinted white that seemed to glow from within. 

The researchers in charge of the blossoms suspected that the most likely cause was the effects of the current artificial pollination techniques. The pigment was no longer needed to attract the honeybees of their native planet and so the species had shifted that energy to a more useful endeavor during their accelerated evolution. They were conducting studies to find out exactly what that endeavor may be, as eventually the Corps intended to reintroduce honeybees and other similar insects to provide planets with additional food sources and industries, which may change the beans once more. 

“I thought you were going to rest.” Obi-Wan jumped at Qui-Gon’s rumbling voice. It was easy to lose himself between the familiar click and slide of glass under a microscope and the scratching of a pen as he checked and double checked the lab's work against his own findings. He looked up to find Qui-Gon leaning against a nearby desk, his lip upturned in a smile. 

“Who says I didn’t?” Qui-Gon merely raised a disbelieving eyebrow in response. “I really did you know. For an hour at least.” 

“An hour of light meditation isn’t rest, Ben. Not after the last few days.” 

“I’ll be alright.” Obi-Wan stretched and arched his back before standing. He checked the crono to find it was far later than he had realized. “Let’s go get a takeaway box before that Jar Jar fellow eats me out of house and home.”

In the cafeteria, Sanya handed Obi-Wan an overflowing picnic box with a wink. The suns had just begun to set, turning the fields green tinted gold. In the far distance, the sand dunes glowed orange, a last bit of warmth before the cold night air crept in. 

As he and Qui-Gon made their way through the field, the three moons were full and bright, their light reflecting onto the small purple and white soybean flowers, making the rows shine like a star system all its own.

Obi-Wan pointed out various subspecies of beans while Qui-Gon asked his questions. He always seemed to have more of them, and knew exactly what to say to get Obi-Wan to laugh or drone on about the beans and his work. 

“Here we are.” Obi-Wan stopped and placed their box on the lush green ground, along with a blanket he had taken from the Quartermaster. 

“And where is ‘here’?” Qui-Gon asked, turning a slow circle. The area didn’t look like much, but it was one of the most important parts of Obi-Wan’s research, proving that the desert could someday be tamed.

“This, Master Jedi, is the first patch of grass on Tatooine since the rainforests vanished eons ago. And that—” Obi-Wan pointed to a small bush, not much more than a twig really. “Is the first tree to survive more than a month on this dustball.” 

Qui-Gon’s eyes widened as he knelt next to the sapling. Obi-Wan himself hadn’t planted it, but he still felt a wave of pride when Qui-Gon followed the lush leaves and hearty root system that had begun to web its way into the hard ground through the Force. 

Even if that pride was laced with a twinge of jealousy of Qui-Gon’s natural command of the Living Force. It was something Obi-Wan had fought hard to nurture in his own life, being naturally attuned to the Unifying Force as he was. 

“Absolutely stunning.” Qui-Gon whispered, his gaze no longer on the tree, but intent on Obi-Wan, making his heart skip a beat. “You have breathed life into a place long thought dead, have given a people  _ hope.” _

Obi-Wan’s blush deepened, burned hot in the cool evening. He began to unpack their meal, hoping to deflect their conversation away from himself. “Ah, well, you can't feed a planet on soybeans alone, no matter how much I wish we could. I am just fortunate my team has been able to accomplish so much and help so many, and that I have been able to be even a small part of it.”

“Somehow, I doubt that your part has been small, Obi-Wan. I saw what you did today, what you were willing to sacrifice.” 

“It’s what anyone would have done.” Obi-Wan handed Qui-Gon his plate before joining him on the large blanket, taking the offered plate. 

“No, they wouldn’t have. When you have traveled as much as I have, have seen what I have seen—” Qui-Gon sighs, painfully deep. “Not everyone would do what you have done. In fact, many would have simply left those children to their fate. You, with nothing more than a training saber and the light of the Force, saved five lives today, including that of a young boy who is destined to become something greater then you or I could hope to imagine.”

Obi-Wan felt his face crumble despite himself. “Qui-Gon, can I ask, why is it so important that Anakin be tested by the Masters? So much so that you will try and convince the  _ Council  _ to let him visit his mother?” Obi-Wan asks, biting back the one question he wishes he could ask. 

Qui-Gon sighed and set aside his meal. “He is special, Ben. His midichlorian count is unmeasurable, and you have seen the way he shines in the Force, brighter than this planet's suns. I do not think it was mere chance that led me to Tatooine. It is the will of the Force that he be trained as a Jedi.”

For a few days now, Obi-Wan had often wondered the same thing, why the Force had seen fit to bring them together once more, and open their hearts to what it was growing between them. But he had been mistaken, it was not him that the Force had guided Qui-Gon to, but Anakin. 

With that thought heavy in his chest, Obi-Wan began to pick up his own small mess, packing away their finished meal to keep the small desert mice and other scavengers from joining them. Once finished, he curled in on himself, chin resting against his knees, a small shiver running down his spine as he looked to the vibrant stars. From the cold, or from sorrow, he couldn’t tell. 

Qui-Gon leaned forward and quickly gathered Obi-Wan into his arms, enveloping him in soft warmth. “It’s alright. Obi-Wan, I will come back. I will take the boy to Coruscant to be tested and trained, and then come back to Tatooine, or wherever the Force may lead you next. I made you a promise, and I will keep it.” 

Obi-Wan buried himself into Qui-Gon’s embrace, inhaling the spicy scent of tea and letting peace finally flow through his heart. Qui-Gon shifted them until they were laying on the soft blanket, Obi-Wan’s head pillowed on Qui-Gon’s chest, content to watch the flowers as they twinkled in the moonlight. Qui-Gon’s hands slowly began tracing his skin, counting the scars that crossed Obi-Wan’s arms, left by a decade of harsh planets and even harsher populations. Eventually Qui-Gon stopped at one of the oldest, a small cut from Bandomeer along his elbow. 

“Where did this one come from?” Qui-Gon’s voice rumbled through Obi-Wan. 

“My first mission. Or, well, my only real mission technically. On Bandomeer. I cut myself on a stone and there wasn’t any time to heal it.” Obi-Wan’s breath hitched as he realized what he had said, the admission therein. 

Qui-Gon paid him little mind, tapping another on Obi-Wan’s wrist, his frown deepening at the irregular burn. This one was larger than most, mottled and twisted. “And this one?”

“A burn from a particularly angry ex-slaver on Jakku.” Obi-Wan left the explanation simple. 

In truth, was a traitor’s brand that had been heated and seared into his skin over and over again, punishment for infiltrating the local slave ring and giving the slaves the tools to liberate themselves. It may not have been the worst injury he had gotten in the Corps, but the memory of the look in the slaver's eye as he promised to do the same to every freed slave he caught made Obi-Wan’s skin crawl and stomach churn years later. Even if Obi-Wan made certain he would never be able to make good on that promise. 

Qui-Gon was still lightly massaging the coarse skin, bringing Obi-Wan back to the present, his eyes soft as he looked at Obi-Wan, as if Obi-Wan was something precious. 

“I wish I would have been there for you. Been able to protect you.” Qui-Gon whispered, bringing Obi-Wan’s damaged wrist to his lips, kissing his pulse beneath the ugly scar. 

Obi-Wan’s heart skipped a beat. “Qui-Gon, it’s okay. You’re here now. And that’s what matters.”

“No, Obi-Wan. I wish I had  _ truly  _ been there for  _ you _ .” Qui-Gon’s voice was heavy with sorrow as he looked at Obi-Wan, eyes rimmed red with tears. “On Bandomeer, on Jakku. Here.”

Obi-Wan pulled back, blinking in confusion at his name on Qui-Gon’s lips. 

“Obi-Wan, is everything alright?”

Obi-Wan laughed, a coarse sound stained with threatening tears. “How long have you known?”

“Far too late, I’m afraid.” Qui-Gon laughed in kind. “I should have known the moment I saw you, glowing, strong and unwavering as you do in the Force. But it wasn’t until I saw you hold that broken training saber, tall and confident even against a dozen men, everything a Jedi should strive to be, that I  _ knew _ .” 

Obi-Wan choked, almost pulling away as if to hide. But Qui-Gon held him tighter, and Obi-Wan relaxed against his firm warmth.

“I am so sorry, Obi-Wan, that I left you on that Force forsaken planet. You deserved to be trained as Jedi. You deserved the galaxy, but I was, I am too afraid to give it to you. I wasn’t ready to move on, to forgive myself or Xanatos for his betrayal. And now I have let my fear rule my heart once more, I— ” Qui-Gon sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm his voice as he softly touched Obi-Wan’s cheek.

“But look at you, a beacon of goodness and light. Look at all you have accomplished, all you have done. You are a mighty Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Far stronger and greater than many that are called Master. And you did it all without me, without a Master, without the Order.” His breath stuttered. “I would ask your forgiveness, Obi-Wan, but I am not worthy of it.”

Obi-Wan’s own tears were hot on his face as he lifted Qui-Gon’s chin. “It was as the Force willed, and there is nothing left to forgive.”

Qui-Gon was breathtaking under the bright moons even as gentle tears stained his cheeks, his chestnut hair almost sparkling in the cool light. Obi-Wan’s gaze never wavered as he leaned forward, gently kissing the corner of Qui-Gon’s mouth, an unspoken question. A question Qui-Gon answered in kind, turning to capture Obi-Wan’s lips with his own. As the kiss deepened and grew more desperate, light swelled in Obi-Wan’s heart, like he had spent years in a cave and could finally see. 

Much like that had during the fights that had faced together side by side, they moved as one, Qui-Gon rolling them so he towered over Obi-Wan, eyes bright with happiness and light of their own. 

“Do you want this, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asked, warm breath forming clouds in the night air. 

Obi-Wan reached up, cradling Qui-Gon’s face between his hands, “More than anything in the galaxy.”

Qui-Gon leaned down to meet him, declaring his love to the stars and flowers that glistened in the moonlight. 

The next morning dawned bright, pulling Obi-Wan from bliss. He stretched, content and sore in a way he hadn’t been in a long time, lighter with the love blossoming in his chest. Qui-Gon shifted beside him, groaning against the bright sun as he extended his long limbs in Obi-Wan’s small bed.

Obi-Wan nuzzled into the welcoming skin, inhaling Qui-Gon’s scent, his warmth, the way they felt together in the Force. He pulled Qui-Gon further awake with a kiss, lamenting that their time together was so short. Qui-Gon merely rolled, wrapping himself around Obi-Wan as if still asleep. 

However, Qui-Gon’s breathing betrayed him as it escaped him in almost unheard laughter. 

“Qui-Gon, I know you’re awake. We shouldn’t keep her highness waiting. Plus, the sooner you leave, the sooner you can return.”

“You raise a good point.” Qui-Gon kissed the bridge of Obi-Wan’s nose, twisting from the bed to find his clothes.

The Queen and her handmaids, along with the other crew members, were long packed and waiting at the ship by the time Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon made it onto the landing pad. 

“Are you sure you won't come with me?” Qui-Gon 

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin, the child Qui-Gon would not leave behind. Even if he knew where he belonged, Obi-Wan’s heart ached to go, to make sure Qui-Gon came back.

“Yes, my place is here.” Obi-Wan said, reminding himself as much as he was telling Qui-Gon.

“I will come back, Obi-Wan. I am not going to leave you again.” Qui-Gon pressed their foreheads together before picking up his pack and starting towards the waiting ship.

A brief flash of black lightning in the Force and the stench of ozone was the only warning Obi-Wan had before a blur of black and red sped towards the ship from Mos Espa, the speeder howling in protest. Pure darkness shrouded the figure, an evil in the Force that threatened to choke Obi-Wan, holding him in place as it leapt from its craft, sending the machine into one of the field generators. The ground shook in the explosion, large enough to knock out the spacedock’s shielding. 

The hooded man somersaulted backwards, Force-aided, landing all too close to Anakin and Qui-Gon, a saber hilt in its clawed hand. The Force screamed as the Zabrak ignited the blood red staff, spinning towards Qui-Gon, its lips snarled in a mockery of a grin.

From his position, Obi-Wan could see Qui-Gon slide into a defensive stance, blocking the Sith’s way to the Queen and Anakin as he ignited his own blade. 

Instead of attacking with its blade, Sith spiraled into a kick, taking Qui-Gon off guard. Its heavy boot crashed into Qui-Gon’s stomach with a sickening crunch before it spun back in a blur of cloaks. 

Qui-Gon crumbled forward, gasping for air as he blocked the next blurred swing. The Sith grinned and raised its blade, ready to strike true. 

“No!” Obi-Wan cried out, running forward to cut off the Sith’s killing blow, his saber sputtering and hissing as their blades clashed. The Sith snarled in surprise, twisting back to swing the blade wide, forcing Obi-Wan away from Qui-Gon’s limp form. 

Quinlan moved as if to run to his aid, but Obi-Wan stopped him with a shout. “Go! I can handle him. Get Qui-Gon on board and get out of here!”

Obi-Wan knew that his blade was no match for a true saber, and his lack of training was evident, but all he needed to manage was to keep the Sith busy long enough for Qui-Gon to finish loading the passengers. He looked back to see the last handmaid dash inside, followed by Quinlan and Qui-Gon. 

With a grunt, Obi-Wan drew upon the Force to leap forward, driving the Sith away. 

But no matter how hard he pushed, the Sith pushed harder, pushing him towards the closing ramp. Obi-Wan’s arms burned with every block and swing and he could feel his exhaustion begin to creep in, expounded by the children’s rescue. 

The next kick landed against his side, knocking Obi-Wan off balance and he stumbled. Obi-Wan steeled himself, saber still raised in defense of the final blow he knew would come. The Sith slammed forward with all of its might, it’s blade whistling as it sliced through the air.

Strong arms wrapped around Obi-Wan, pulling him up and away from the saber and into the ship with a pained grunt. 

With the high pitched grind of metal on metal, the ship’s ramp sealed closed, this time with Obi-Wan on board. 


End file.
